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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726853">Repression</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkeythehamster/pseuds/sparkeythehamster'>sparkeythehamster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shipping Challenge [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Case Fic, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:08:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkeythehamster/pseuds/sparkeythehamster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean arrive in the little town of Whitby to investigate a case of cattle mutilations. It doesn't take Dean long to realise he's been here before, but his memories are a mess. Castiel attempts to help, but Dean's own head rejects him, desperate to keep those repressed memories burried deep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Shipping Challenge [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is part of a challenge I'm setting myself to write a one-shot or short story for every one of my ships, starting with Destiel.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The early morning sun bled through the screen of the closed Impala window, highlighting the array of freckles scattered along Dean’s pale cheeks. Dazed green eyes opened slowly, flinching against the light as the man slowly began to process his surroundings.</p><p>“Morning sleepy head.” Sam was there to greet him from the driver’s seat with a cheeky grin and a slightly chilled cup of coffee with the logo of some local coffee house printed on the side. “Welcome to Whitby.”</p><p>Stretching and rolling up his seat into the upward position, Dean took the coffee with a yawn. “What time did we arrive?” Rolling back the sleeve of his jacket, he examined his watch. Seven o’clock.</p><p>“About an hour ago” Sam told him, “I would have woken you, but you looked like you needed the sleep.”</p><p>It had been a slow couple of weeks, and with nothing else to do but mope around the bunker, Dean had jumped at the chance of checking out Sam’s offer of ‘<em>Cattle mutilations in little local town</em>’. Of course, cattle mutilations could mean anything, Werewolf, demon, or just your average sick run-of-the-mill human psycho. If it turned out to be nothing, then at least they’d gotten a change of scenery.</p><p>Sipping tentatively on the cardboard rim of his coffee cup, Dean slowly allowed his brain to kick into gear for the day. First things first, they needed to find a motel to check into, and knowing Sam he probably already had somewhere in mind.</p><p>“I thought we could stay at the <em>Whitten</em>.” Sam was examining a local map on the back of a leaflet he must have picked up somewhere while fetching Dean his morning coffee. “It’s pretty central, but the girl at the coffee house said their check-in didn’t open until seven-thirty.”</p><p>Nodding his head absentmindedly, Dean nodded. “Sounds great. The Whitten it is.” Taking a couple more sips from the cup, Dean pushed open the passenger seat door, motioning with his thumb for his brother to swap places with him. It was a sign of trust that he let Sam drive the Impala while he was unconscious, but otherwise she was his baby and he was the only one allowed to manhandle her.</p><p>Firmly back behind the wheel, Dean drove her carefully out of the spot where Sam had parked her, and back onto the main strip of road, waiting for his brother’s directions. From what Dean could observe from the front windscreen of the car, it was a fairly quiet town, population of maybe a couple of thousand. It was the typical rustic build of New Hampshire, not that Dean had spent a lot of time in the north-east, but he recognised the hallmark look from trips he’d taken with his dad as a kid. He still remembered the visit to Salem; that had been the first witch coven he’d helped to take down.</p><p>Still. As they rounded a corner, Dean couldn’t help but sense there was something familiar about these old wooden buildings. The fountain at the centre of a wide pedestrianised sidewalk in front of the library reminded him of something he might have seen in a dream. “I think I’ve been here before” he informed Sam with no real emotion. “With dad when I was a kid.” He attempted to scrape something more useful together, but found himself coming up blank, now would have been a very good time to consult dad’s journal. He’d been to so many places it didn’t really surprise him that he couldn’t perfectly remember this one.</p><p>“Anything interesting?” Sam glanced back down at the map, before giving his next instruction to turn left after the library.</p><p>Dean shrugged, “Can’t really remember.” He did grin a little as he cast another look back at the library. “I stole some really valuable book from there because I thought it would help dad out. I ended up getting him into trouble though and he was furious.” Dean let out a low whistle, “Threw me in the back of the car and gave me nothing to eat until we got to Bobby’s to pick you up.” He slowly allowed the fuzzy memories to play out. He remembered being hungry and upset, a dull ache on the side of his face and Bobby’s worried looks. Dad had told him not to tell Bobby why he was in trouble, it was family business after all.</p><p>Catching Sam’s eye, he pulled a face. “What? I was a kid. I don’t remember every hunt I went on?”</p><p>His brother’s frown deepened. “It’s a whole day’s drive from here to Bobby’s, you’re saying dad didn’t feed you for a day?”</p><p>Had it been that long? Dean didn’t reply. Personally, he didn’t see anything wrong with it, after all dad had been really angry with him and he had stolen that book. However, he’d found over the years it was best that he and Sam just didn’t discuss their father’s childrearing techniques, it always led to an argument. Thankfully, Sam let it drop as well, pointing out the swinging sign to the <em>Whitten Motel.</em></p><p>Apart from the wooden slat whitewashed walls, it was the same sort of motel as they’d find anywhere else in the country. There had been a time when the familiar interior of a motel had been the calling sign of home, but since they’d moved into the Bunker, Dean often found himself missing his own room.</p><p>Dean pushed his way into the shower first, promising Sam he’d be quick as he pulled the door closed behind him. Tossing his travelling clothes onto the recently disinfected floor, Dean stepped under the cascading warm water with a satisfied sigh. If they wanted to hit the ground running, then they had about half an hour to make themselves into convincing FBI agents. For a set of cattle mutilations, it was a little overkill, but in Dean’s experience people didn’t tend to question the badge.</p><p>Washing himself as thoroughly as a person reasonably could in five minutes, Dean grabbed a towel and stepped aside so that Sam could take his turn. His brother had already laid out their suits and badges on the beds, ready to go.</p><p>“Dean!” Sam snapped, opening the bathroom door to throw Dean’s discarded clothes out, “Your cell is ringing, and couldn’t you at least make an effort not to leave your clothes lying all over the place!” The door slammed shut again.</p><p>Eyebrows raised in amusement; Dean crouched down to retrieve his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. If a smile flashed across his face when he saw the name on the Caller ID, then Dean didn’t notice it. “Hey Cas. You back from your… whatever it was you were doing?”</p><p>“I was tracking a rogue angel Dean” Cas sighed heavily, he sounded tired but unhurt. “I just got back to the Bunker. Sam left a note that you’d gone on a hunt. Do you need any back up?”</p><p>As nice as it would be to have Cas here, Dean could easily imagine how weathered and exhausted the angel probably was. Knowing Cas, he was standing in the old map room covered in dirt, hair in a state of complete disarray. When they’d first met, Cas had been pretty consistent with his appearance, but over the years he’d spent with the Winchesters bad habits had kicked in.</p><p>“No, we’re fine, probably isn’t anything. We’re just checking it out.” He dropped down onto his bed, carefully avoiding the suit Sam had laid out for him. “You okay?”</p><p>A low confirming hum sounded over the phone. “Not a powerful angel, and no interference from Heaven.” Dean interpreted the soft grunt as Cas settling down into one of the seats, stretching out whatever aches and pains he had obtained in the fight. The angel didn’t heal as quickly as he once had done.</p><p>“We’ll be back in a few days, take the time to rest up” Dean suggested, “Can’t be one man down if anything big comes up.”</p><p>Once again he could envision the look of indignant confusion on Cas’ face: blue eyes narrowed slightly; head tilted to the side as his head struggled to process Dean’s words. “I don’t sleep.” The angel reminded him.</p><p>“I know that Cas. <em>Rest </em>doesn’t necessarily mean sleeping, flick on the Netflix account, read a book, and if we need you out here then I’ll call okay?”</p><p>He heard the door to the shower click open and was vaguely aware of his brother entering the room, wrapped in one complimentary towel and drying off his hair with another.</p><p>For a moment Dean thought Cas had already hung up, but then the gruff voice returned. “Okay. I’ll… Netflix and… chill?” He sounded uncertain about the phrasing, but his attempt at ‘regular human talk’ caused Dean to bite back a snort of laughter.</p><p>“Sounds good buddy. Talk soon.”</p><p>Slowly moving the phone away from his ear, Dean ended the call. It was only then that he realised that Sam was giving him a strange look. “Cas?” He asked.</p><p>Dean nodded, narrowing his eyes slightly. He wasn’t sure what that expression meant, but he was certain that it was something he wouldn’t like. “Yeah. He’s back at the Bunker, just checking up on us.”</p><p>Sam nodded in a way that was clearly supposed to come across as casual, but he was overselling it.</p><p>“What?” He asked defensively, but Sam only shrugged and busied himself getting dressed, with the suggestion that Dean do the same.</p><p>Having nothing else to say without knowing what he was accusing Sam of, Dean reluctantly threw himself off his own bed and pulled on the well-worn suit, giving his badge a quick glance over to familiarise himself with what name he was using today. Agent Dean Hunt.</p><p>“Who?” He questioned Sam, reaching for his brother’s, and reading the words <em>Agent Sam Tyler</em>.</p><p>Sam snatched the card back and adjusted his tie. “From <em>Life on Mars</em>, it’s a British TV classic.”</p><p>“Wasn’t that the show with the stupid space finale?” Dean vaguely recalled, earning him a sharp glare from his brother.</p><p>“No. That’s the American version, the British one was a lot better casted and the writing…”</p><p>Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I don’t really care. Fine. Hunt and Tyler it is.” Dropping his fake FBI card into the breast pocket of his jacket, Dean grabbed the Impala keys and headed for the door.</p><p>----</p><p>“…Brains all mangled they were!” The old farmer was telling them angrily, “Damn kids. It’s the education system you know, chews these kids up and then spits them out where they become society’s problem!”</p><p>Sam was doing his best to look dutiful, notebook open in his hand, pen poised as if it were about to start taking notes, Dean simply rolled his eyes while the man wasn’t looking.</p><p>“Did you see the kids that did this?” Sam asked, brown puppy dog eyes wide and inquisitive, “Was there anything strange about them?”</p><p>The farmer lifted a dry hand to scratch at his equally dry scalp. “Didn’t see ‘em, but I know it’s them kids.”</p><p>“I don’t suppose you have any of the dead cows we could examine. Just to see if there’s any forensic evidence they might have left?” Dean did his best to imitate Sam’s inviting smile, but it probably just looked more like a grimace.</p><p>The man’s expression tightened into one of bewildered disgust. “Of course not. Why would I be keeping a dead cow? I burned ‘em!”</p><p>Dean smiled tensely, eyes drifting while Sam tried another line of enquiry. There was something prickling along the length of his neck, an uncomfortable and tense feeling, usually a warning sign that they were being watched. On a busy farm like this anybody could be staring at them, but Dean couldn’t help but glance around, looking for the source.</p><p>“…It’s like what happened twenty years ago!”</p><p>Tuning back into the conversation, Dean blinked. “Twenty years ago?”</p><p>The old man nodded. “It’s not the first time. Twenty years ago, the same thing, kids just don’t change. FBI came poking about then to, just one guy though.” He gave Sam and Dean a quick look up and down, “You boys kind of remind me of him.”</p><p>Their eyes locked. They couldn’t say it out loud, but the same word was travelling through their minds. <em>Dad</em>.</p><p>That must have been what he was here to sort out with Dean when he was a kid.</p><p>“Well we’ll talk to the people in town” Sam promised, now clearly keen to get away, and he flipped his empty notebook shut.</p><p>The farmer huffed, mumbling something under his breath as he stalked away to shout at one of the farmhands in the nearby barn.</p><p>“Do you remember what Dad was hunting?” Sam asked as soon as they were out of earshot and heading back to the Impala.</p><p>He should be able to remember. Now that he’d been here long enough and been presented with the facts, he should be able to remember, and yet, Dean still found himself lost in a cloudy haze of unhelpful memories.</p><p>Like any normal human, Dean wasn’t surprised by the fact he couldn’t recount every single event with picture perfect clarity, but he tended to remember his childhood hunts, even if it sometimes took a little prompting to awaken the right memory. But this time… it was as if something was purposefully keeping them from him. Every time he attempted to reach for one it was pulled further and further out of sight.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Sam’s heavy hand fell on his shoulder, grounding him in the present. “It’s okay if you don’t remember, you were only a kid.”</p><p>Shaking his head, Dean pressed his palm against his temple. “What if this case is the reason I can’t remember? Is there anything that distorts memories?”</p><p>“You think that could be it?” His brother tilted his head to one side, running through that encyclopaedic brain of his. “Can’t be a Djinn, those distorted memories wouldn’t last. I can look into it back at the motel though. You said you remembered trying to steal a book. Did that have something to do with it?”</p><p>Once again Dean found himself shrugging. “It must have done, why else would I have stolen it.”</p><p>They returned to <em>The Whitten </em>and promptly began searching for anything that might be able to distort or hide memories.</p><p>“Demons and witches” Sam offered after a short while, “Although they tend to entirely eradicate the memory, and you say you can still remember flashes?” Sam flicked to a new page on his laptop, “Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree here. Let’s just stick with what we know. Cattle mutilations, that could be Vamps, Werewolves.... The farmer did say something about the brains being mangled. Perhaps this is a witch we’re dealing with; they’re supposed to be quite active in the New England and New Hampshire area… Dean?” Looking up, Dean met his brother’s worried expression. “Relax okay, I’m sure the memories will come back to you eventually, and if they don’t we’ll just solve this the old-fashioned way.”</p><p>Realising that he’d been holding his face in a very set way, Dean allowed his expression to relax. “Yeah I know. You go grab some takeout for lunch, I’ll keep reading up on the stuff here see if it triggers anything.” Pulling another book towards him, Dean flicked through to the chapter on witches and rituals. He was fairly certain he didn’t remember anything about witches, but as his memory couldn’t be trusted it seemed like a good idea to check anyway.</p><p>Reaching for his jacket Sam nodded. “I’ll be back soon. I think I saw a burger place on our way here.”</p><p>“Burgers sound good,” Dean raised his eyes from the book to grin, “You know how I like them Sammy.”</p><p>Once his brother was gone, Dean reached out for the next book, then the next, and the next. There was nothing here. Nothing that sounded remotely like what they were looking for, and nothing that triggered any of his clouded memories.</p><p>“Son of a Bitch!” He cursed, throwing the nearest book to him against the wall. Hard.</p><p>Fuck. He was over-reacting to this, but there was something about the situation that was irritating him more than seemed reasonably necessary. There was something important that had happened here, something really, really important, and he just couldn’t remember what it was!</p><p>“Dean?”</p><p>Jumping nearly a foot in the air, Dean clasped a hand to his heart. “Jesus Christ Cas! What the hell are you doing here?”</p><p>Head tilted to one side; Cas pulled his trademark expression of confusion. “You prayed to me? I thought you were in trouble.”</p><p>Prayed? It was Dean’s turn to look confused.</p><p>“I didn’t pray to you Cas, I was just angry about this… I mean…” He motioned lamely toward the book he’d thrown, and then to Sam’s laptop, before letting out a long sigh and sitting back on the edge of the bed. “I came here before as a kid. There were cattle mutilations back then as well, but for some reason my memories are all bent out of place… I can’t focus on anything or remember why we were here.”</p><p>Cas hadn’t moved since he’d arrived, still staring quizzically at Dean.</p><p>“I don’t suppose…” Dean pointed a finger at his head, “You could do something about it? We wondered if whatever was here might have messed with my head.”</p><p>He waited as the angel took a hesitant step forward, pausing for a moment before dropping down beside Dean on the bed. “I can try.” His hands hovered over Dean’s temple, waiting for permission.</p><p>Honestly, Dean couldn’t help but think that the angel looked nervous.</p><p>Unsure of what else to say, Dean gave a small nod. “Well fire it up Cas.”</p><p>Briefly Dean felt the feather light touch of Cas’ rough hands against his skin, and then his mind was plummeting backwards, falling through the darkness. Memories were flashing before him, too fast for him to focus on, and yet there was one face, one feeling that kept emerging.</p><p>A fourteen-year-old boy, with a honey-coloured angular face. A friend. As it was the only memory on offer, Dean focused harder on it, attempting to recall the conversations they were having. His mind twitched uncomfortably.</p><p>The boy and the book. The boy was with him when he stole the book… his head burned, the memories shuffling in and out of focus, almost as if there were two simultaneous stories playing at once. Both similar, and yet ever so slightly different.</p><p>And then, the memories were fading again, and Dean was being rushed back to the surface of his mind, like a diver emerging from the murky fascinating depths of the sea.</p><p>Cas came back into focus, shaking his own head, gaze unsettled and pained.</p><p>“I was just getting somewhere, what happened?” It didn’t seem fair to be annoyed at Cas, but why the hell had he stopped there?</p><p>The angel winced, pressing fingers very carefully to his own head. “Nothing has interfered with your memories Dean, but your own mind is rejecting me. If I’d have pushed further I would have hurt you. They’re memories you’ve buried deep, disguised under layers of something false.”</p><p>When he was seventeen Dean had dated a girl for a week who had talked about false memories and illusions. She’d been a little weird, but very hot.</p><p>“What does that mean?” Even if his memories hadn’t been interfered with that still sounded kind of serious.</p><p>Cas frowned, cool blue eyes meeting Dean’s with such an intensity that he was struck momentarily dumb. “They’re repressed memories Dean.”</p><p>“Repressed…” Dean snorted, “Seriously? What could I possibly repress? I have quite literally been to hell… and purgatory. I didn’t repress any of that.”</p><p>The angel didn’t reply, but shuffled on the bed, inching a little further from Dean’s side.</p><p>“Look whatever it is I can face it. Do that thing again Cas I was just starting to get somewhere.”</p><p>Turning to him in alarm, Cas shook his head. “I already told you, forcing memories out while your mind is fighting back so hard, it could damage you, potentially beyond repair.”</p><p>Dean shrugged, “Well I’ll stop fighting then. Come on.”</p><p>Once again Cas refused. “It’s not a conscious decision Dean, your subconscious is…”</p><p>Feeling his earlier frustration returning, Dean grabbed the angel by the shoulders. If Cas were a normal person, then Dean was very aware that he would be squeezing too hard, as it was, he doubted the angel even felt it. “For fuck sake Cas. It’s important, I know whatever it is that it’s important! I need you to…”</p><p>The door to the motel room opened. Distracted, Dean slackened his hold. The sound of beating wings signalled Cas’ departure.</p><p>“I’ve got burgers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Murder?” Sam let out a wide yawn, accepting the eggs and bacon Dean had bought at the fast food establishment across the road.</p>
<p>“That’s what they’re saying” Dean nodded, dropping down into the seat opposite his brother to tuck into his own sausage and eggs, coffee cup almost half empty. “Local news. Man was stabbed, might be our cattle mutilator moving onto bigger and tastier things. We should check it out.”</p>
<p>The taller Winchester hummed in sleepy agreement, examining his toast with a sorrowful expression. “They didn’t have any wholegrain?”</p>
<p>“No Sam” Dean sighed, “They didn’t have any wholegrain.” They did, Dean had just opted not to buy it because he was fed up with the whole healthy diet thing that Sam insisted on all the time.</p>
<p>With breakfast finished, they headed for the police station, confident that at least the local detectives wouldn’t have burned the body. They’d hopefully have better luck here than they had with the cows the other day.</p>
<p>Thankfully, no one at the hospital questioned their badges, and they were led through to the small chilly morgue where the body of a man had been spread out on the metallic slab, a thin sheet protecting his modesty.</p>
<p>“Pretty brutal” the coroner warned, as he drew the sheet back to show the vicious stab wounds in the man’s chest. “Stabbed at least five times with something long and thin, pierced his heart, that was the cause of death. However,” he motioned them round to the victim’s head, “Brain has been mutilated post-mortem, small part of it is missing.”</p>
<p>Sam’s eyes widened, shooting a quick glance at Dean before he spoke. “I don’t suppose it’s the pituitary gland that’s missing?”</p>
<p>The coroner’s eyes widened in surprise, just as Dean clocked onto the same train of thought as Sam. They were dealing with a Kitsune, it should have been obvious after the farmer had mentioned the mangled brains.</p>
<p>“How did you know that?” The coroner confirmed, eyes firing nervously between the two brothers. “Is this a serial killer we’re dealing with? Is that why the FBI is involved?”</p>
<p>Offering a tight reassuring smile, Sam moved his head in a non-comital direction. “We’ve seen something like it before” he answered honestly, “But don’t worry, whoever it is we’ll get them.”</p>
<p>This did not seem to reassure the coroner who had turned a nervous shade of white. But Sam was right, if this was a Kitsune, then they weren’t leaving town until it had been caught.</p>
<p>That was when it hit him.</p>
<p>----</p>
<p>
  <em>There really were better places to be at fourteen than an old looking town hidden away in the countryside of New Hampshire. Dad had abandoned him in this stupid library and told him to research anything that might be relevant to the case.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Pulling out another book on old folk lore for the area, Dean dumped the small pile of books onto one of the desks and began flicking through the first one.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dad was probably up to something exciting, questioning suspects or discovering clues to identify of the cattle mutilator. Meanwhile he was locked away in here with a crusty old librarian who kept glaring at him like had something particularly revolting on his face.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hi.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Dean would never admit that he’d jumped.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Lowering the book, he found himself looking into the sharp pointed face of another boy. The boy was grinning, his light brown eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement. His skin had a slightly dark complexion to it, with features Dean could only describe ignorantly as ‘Asian’.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Hi” Dean echoed back suspiciously. Weren’t normal kids supposed to be in school at the moment?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Without invitation the boy sat down in the seat opposite him, eyes scanning the spines of the pile of books lined up in front of him. “That’s a lot of books on Whitby Folk Tales, I didn’t even know there were that many.” He folded his fingers delicately under his chin. “I haven’t seen you here before, are you new?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Passing through” Dean replied, in a way he hoped sounded interesting and mysterious.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It seemed to work as the boy’s eyes widened further. “My name is Aaron” he introduced, “I live here… well…” He stumbled a little in embarrassment. “Not <strong>here-here </strong>but in town.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You skipping school?” Trying to look like he was very busy, Dean tried to focus on the book again. This kid was distracting him, and he was supposed to be doing important work to support his dad. After all, dad was never going to trust him to help on hunts if he couldn’t help with background research. Over the book however, he saw Aaron shake his head.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m home-schooled. I was at school for a bit, but…” He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously, “I get sick a lot. What about you?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Didn’t really click” Dean answered because it was easier than coming up with a more elaborate lie.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>For a few short minutes Aaron remained quiet, simply watching Dean who was still desperately attempting and failing to concentrate.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Aaron’s head tilted to one side, eyes narrowing slightly as if he were studying Dean, trying to get a good read on him. Then, he smiled softly and pulled one of the other books from the pile and began reading, dutifully pulling out a notebook. He clearly didn’t know what it was Dean was looking for, but for some reason he’d decided to help.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Well… perhaps it could be useful having an assistant of sorts. The kid was probably bored, might as well give him something to do while lightening his own workload at the same time.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Dean” he introduced, turning over another page in the book. “My name is Dean. His eyes fell over the title of the new chapter: <strong>The Whitby Fox Demon</strong>.</em>
</p>
<p>----</p>
<p>“Dean are you okay?” They were standing at the front doors of the small hospital, evidently Dean had been in a bit of a trance since they’d left the morgue. Although considering they’d made it all this way out here before Sam had questioned him, he’d hopefully come across as fairly normal to everyone else they’d passed.</p>
<p>Nodding, and feeling more relieved than he had done all of yesterday, Dean grinned. “Yep. Apparently my memory is finally kicking into gear. We were chasing a Kitsune. There’s something here known as <em>The Whitby Fox Demon</em>, so potentially they’ve been here for several generations. Dad might have missed one.”</p>
<p>Matching Dean’s smile, Sam led the way back to the Impala. “Well it’s good to know we’re on the right track. Did you remember anything else?”</p>
<p>Unlocking the car, Dean slid into the driver’s seat. “There was a kid I talked to when I was here, Aaron. I think I might have remembered him before when Cas…” Cutting himself off, Dean threw a panicked look at Sam who was studying him with confusion.</p>
<p>“Cas?” To Sam it must have seemed like Dean had brought the angel’s name up out of nowhere.</p>
<p>“I sort of accidentally summoned him last night when you were out getting lunch. He tried to help me get my memories straight.” Trying not to make any self-conscious movements, Dean put the car into drive. “He said I didn’t have to worry and that nothing supernatural had messed my head up.”</p>
<p>“But?” Sam was frowning again, that creased look of concern appearing on his brow.</p>
<p>Repressed memories. That was what Castiel had said, but Dean wasn’t about to wrinkle his brother’s forehead any further by mentioning that. “But nothing. He tried to help, couldn’t, but told me I hadn’t been messed with by some witch. That’s good news Sam, stop looking so down.” Keeping a careful eye on the road, he reached over with one hand to punch his brother on the shoulder. “So, this kid Aaron, it’s possible that he’s still around, maybe he remembers something I don’t.”</p>
<p>Shrugging his shoulders, Sam fell back against his seat. The look he was giving Dean wasn’t particularly reassuring, but at least he’d stopped frowning like a concerned mother. “Perhaps, we could ask around.” Pointing out a space to park the car near the centre of town, Sam pulled out the map again. “This place seems pretty busy, and it’s a fairly small town, perhaps someone knows him.” He cast another sideways glance at Dean, “Are you sure he’ll know something important though? He might not even remember you.”</p>
<p>This, Dean reflected, was entirely possible, but his memory seemed to be suggesting that he’d involved this boy in his research. Besides, he doubted that a cool mysterious teen like he’d been, would be that hard to forget.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for someone to recognise Aaron’s name, and they were pointed in the direction of the library, which seemed somewhat remarkable, considering that was where the two of them had first met.</p>
<p>Dean approached the library with confidence, but as they drew nearer he felt himself faulter. The sensation of a nervous quiver at the base of his stomach held him back, hand hovering over the door handle. However, despite the discomfort that he felt, he forced himself to press on, not wanting to add further fuel to the little pile of worry Sam seemed to be collecting.</p>
<p>The library was more-or-less how he remembered it. A typical small establishment with several rows of wooden bookshelves and a few desks scattered about. The only notable difference was the colourful children’s section that had been added, and the line of four bulky looking computers against the back wall.</p>
<p>Sam led the way to the front desk where a man was going through a small pile of books scattered across his worktop. He was tall and slim, golden skinned and dark haired, with a very distinctive angular face. This was Aaron, Dean didn’t need to read the nametag to recognise him.</p>
<p>“Can I help you gentleman?” Aaron asked pleasantly, his face decorated with soft cheery smile. He placed the books to one side and waited attentively for one of the two brothers to respond.</p>
<p>Finding his mind momentarily stunned by the surrealness of the situation, Dean remained in a befuddled state of silence, while Sam, who had evidently recovered more quickly, flashed a smile of his own. “We’re looking for a man by the name of Aaron. We were told he works here?”</p>
<p>With a slightly nervous laugh, Aaron tapped a finger to his name badge. “That’s me actually. I hope I’m not in any trouble?”</p>
<p>Sam shook his head quickly. “Oh no. You see…”</p>
<p>Finding his voice very suddenly, Dean felt compelled to use it, cutting across Sam with a confident wave of his hand. “You probably don’t remember me. Dean Winchester?” He pointed to himself, “You helped me with some research when I was down here…”</p>
<p>Aaron’s pale brown eyes had widened, his gaze flickering between Dean and Sam for a hurried moment, as he gaped with some alarm. “Dean Winchester!?” He clamped a hand over his own mouth and whispered an apology to the one other person in the library who had glared over at them. “Of course, I… what are you doing here?”</p>
<p>Feeling a warm burst of smugness and flattery, Dean was pleased that his presence had caused such a reaction. “Well, I’m down here working a case,” he flashed his badge, hoping it would impress Aaron further. “It’s possibly connected to the reason I was here the last time, but my memory seems to be a bit foggy. As we spent some time together I was wondering if I may have mentioned anything to you about why I was here?”</p>
<p>Despite the gentle nature of them, Dean could see Aaron thinking fast, processing what looked like several thoughts and emotions all at once. Finally, he spoke, speaking cautiously and carefully. “What do you remember?”</p>
<p>Dean shook his head, “Nothing really. I remembered meeting you and a chapter of lore on some fox demon?” He hoped that might prompt a memory, but Aaron was still looking at him with a slightly tense expression.</p>
<p>He shook his head slowly. “No, you didn’t mention anything about that.” He looked over at Sam questioningly, “And this is?”</p>
<p>Having almost forgotten that Sam was there with him, observing the whole exchange with confused amusement, Dean introduced him. “Oh, this is Sam, my partner.”</p>
<p>Aaron’s eyes widened again, but he smiled warmly at Sam. “Well it’s nice to meet you. Have you two been together long?”</p>
<p>It took Dean a couple of moments to process what Aaron meant.</p>
<p>“No. Not like… we’re partners in the FBI.” Why did people always assume they were together? Didn’t they look enough like brothers to put people off that idea? He felt a whole-body shiver of disgust run through him.</p>
<p>Aaron raised a single pointed eyebrow. “You aren’t FBI” he told them, with a small, almost self-satisfied smile. He held up a hand as Sam and Dean both reached for their badges. “Don’t bother, I know you aren’t FBI. You told me your dad sometimes pulled the FBI stunt to get information, I assume you guys are doing the same thing?”</p>
<p>The look of heavy judgement Sam was giving him was enough to weigh down all the confidence Dean had felt when Aaron had first recognised him. “I told you that?” Dean could have kicked his younger self if it were possible. Why the hell had he done that!?</p>
<p>Directing his attention back to the pile of books, Aaron cast another brief glance back in their direction. “I’ve only recently moved back to town, so I’m afraid I’m probably not that much good to you. Is there anything else I can help you agents with?” His lip twitched with amusement.</p>
<p>Annoyance turning into frustration, Dean grabbed his brother by the arm. “Let’s get out of here.”</p>
<p>“Wait, Dean…” But Dean gave him another forcible pull, ready to drag his brother out of here if he had to. Sam attempted to protest again, but then obediently followed Dean through the doors. Only once they were through did he speak again. “Dean!” He snapped, “That guy clearly remembers more than he was letting on. If you trusted him enough to tell him your dad posed as an FBI agent then he must have known more about the case, if you could have just let me speak with…” Dean fired the most ferocious glare he could muster in his brother’s direction.</p>
<p>“Look, he says he doesn’t know anything. Why would he? He was just some random kid I killed time with while I was in this dumb-ass town. I have no idea how he knew about the FBI thing, maybe I let it slip. But don’t you think if he knew about some supernatural creature he might think to mention it!?” Dean couldn’t rightfully explain why he felt so angry right now. It was just like Cas all over again.</p>
<p>Evidently though, Sam’s patience was starting to wear thin as well. “Why the hell are you so angry? You’ve been in a bad mood since you realised you’d been here before with dad. I get you’re annoyed that you can’t remember the case, but it’s not the first time. What is your problem!?”</p>
<p>“Perhaps if I could remember, I would know!” Dean fired this over his shoulder, making straight for the Impala. Sam could walk back for all he cared; he needed a drink.</p>
<p>Starting up the engine, he was pretty sure he heard his brother calling his name, but the older Winchester ignored it, pulling out onto the road to leave Sam in a cloud of smoke.</p>
<p>It was not hard to find a bar, Dean tended to find them fairly quickly wherever he was. He liked to think of it as a well-practised and perfected skill.</p>
<p>Throwing the fake credit card down on the counter he ordered a pint of whatever they had, and four shots of something else. That was where he stayed for the next two hours, drinking himself into a fuzzy and pleasant stupor.</p>
<p>“Dean.”</p>
<p>He wasn’t even surprised when Cas’ familiar voice called out to him, turning on his stool to grin inanely. “Cas” he slurred happily, “What’re you having?” He didn’t wait for a response, “Hey” he called to the barman, “A pint for my good friend here.” Tugging on the sleeve of Cas’ coat, he pulled until the angel was forced to look him in the eye. “You are my good friend okay Cas. I know I’m a…” he paused, losing track of his thought for a moment, before finding it again. “I know I’m a complete SOB sometimes, but you are my friend.”</p>
<p>Had Cas’ eyes always been that impossibly blue? Dean knew he must have noticed before, but he found himself strangely fixated on the thought. Like blue flames, too warm and inviting to be pools of ice. Yeah… that’s what they were.</p>
<p>“Dean.” Cas repeated his name again, pulling him upright – Dean hadn’t even noticed he’d been slouching. He waved quickly to the barman to dismiss the order Dean had just placed and hauled him over to one of the booths. “Sam phoned me; he was worried about you.”</p>
<p>“He’s always worried about me” Dean snorted, “Why’s this anything different?”</p>
<p>The angel frowned. “Because I’m worried about you. Dean… if you are struggling with repressed memories, I hear there are more traditional ways to help…”</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Dean made to stand up, aiming for another drink, but Cas’ strong hand on his shoulder pushed him back down into the seat. “I’m not repressing anything. It’s just… it’s probably the thing Sam said, you know, being a kid and forgetting shit.” He made another attempt to stand up, but it was met with the same firm hand that forced him once more back into his seat.</p>
<p>Cas raised a dark eyebrow. “Very convincing.”</p>
<p>Forgetting his drink, Dean was almost impressed. “Was that sarcasm?” He grinned in amusement, finding the angel’s pretty blue eyes again. Not for the first time he found himself wondering, if Cas had possessed a woman’s body, was he the sort of chick Dean would have been into? But he always reached the same conclusion, seeing Cas as anybody apart from himself would just feel weird and wrong in some way.</p>
<p>He sighed, taking hold of one of Cas’ hands and placing it against the side of his head. He was far too drunk to notice how rigid his friend suddenly became, or the faint feather light blush on his angelic cheeks. “Can’t you just, try again. I’ve…” he waved loosely in the direction of his head, “I’ve loosened my brain up. Maybe we’ll have more luck this time.”</p>
<p>He could see the hesitation in the angel’s eyes, marking every detail of his crumbling resolve. “Dean, I told you there are more traditional ways to…”</p>
<p>Not sure quite why he did it, and not completely certain at the moment that he cared, Dean leaned forward, hand reaching out for the first thing it came into contact with, which just so happened to be the Cas’ cheek. He tapped his finger lightly against the dishevelled stubble, before allowing his fingers to drag downwards against the unfamiliar texture. Cas had gone quite still again, one of his hand still pressed to the side of Dean’s head.</p>
<p>“Okay.” He pulled away from Dean’s touch, “But, I won’t push any further than your mind allows. Deal?”</p>
<p>With a wide grin, Dean nodded. “Deal.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Whitby – 1994<br/>Friday</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>He’d passed on all his and Aaron’s notes to dad last night, but the older man hadn’t commented on whether any of them were useful to him, simply offering an acknowledging nod. He also refused to answer any of Dean’s probing questions about the case.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once again he was dropped off at the little town’s library and told to keep digging through the folk lore to see if he could find out anything more about this Whitby Fox.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He wasn’t a kid anymore, why didn’t dad see that? He could do more than just sit around and help with research or watch little Sammy. Surely there was more he could do to help out with the investigation than this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Pushing open the doors, it didn’t take Dean long to spot the only other person under the age of forty in the building. Aaron was sitting at one of the desks with his back to him, quick bright eyes scrolling across the text of a book, completely engrossed and unaware of his surroundings. Dean knew he could never afford to be that vulnerable, even in a place like this his dad had taught him to keep his wits about him. You never knew who might secretly be a Werewolf or Demon in disguise, reading to knock you out the moment privacy permitted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Moving up behind Aaron in swift silence, Dean leaned over his shoulder. “<strong>It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.</strong>” He read out loud with a grin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron startled, fingers twitching as he spun round to face Dean. The movement was so fast, his brown eyes seemed to flash gold for a few brief moments, before he spotted Dean and they returned to their original pale brown. “You… You scared me?” He placed a hand over his presumably rapidly beating heart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean answered this with a grin. “You left yourself open to it” he replied, moving around the other boy to drop into the seat opposite him. “What are you reading anyway? I find it hard to believe that any rich guy is looking to settle down with the first chick that rocks up.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The darker boy flushed a little and quickly closed the book. “It’s an old English romance, <strong>Pride and Prejudice</strong>”.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Shrugging his shoulders, Dean leaned back casually. “Never heard of it.” He dropped forward. He wasn’t sure why but something rather pleasant stumbled across his stomach when Aaron had blushed, and he felt compelled to force the other boy to do it again. “You a fan of old English romances?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Success. Aaron’s cheeks reddened again, and he quickly pushed the book to the side. “Not really… I just didn’t know what else to read.” He wasn’t a convincing liar, but Dean didn’t push him on it. He wrote the funny feeling in his stomach off as amusement, after all, he didn’t often get to see other guys getting embarrassed over stuff like this, and it reminded him a lot of Sammy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Remembering what he was here for, Dean cast a pained look around at the bookshelves. “I’m supposed to be reading more on this Whitby Fox, but…” he groaned, “I hate books. I am the worst person for this job.” Dropping his head onto the table, Dean missed the slight tilt of Aaron’s head, most likely in confusion over his use of the word ‘job’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know a lot about the Whitby Fox.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean snapped his head up. “Seriously?” He let out a bark of relief. “Well then, good thing I bumped into you,” he grinned, reaching over the table to nudge the other boy’s arm to address the strong need he suddenly had to just establish physical contact. He pulled out his notebook and pen, setting them at the ready. “Everything you know, and don’t spare the details.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron hadn’t been kidding. He seemed to know everything about the old local legend. He ran through details from the Founding Fathers, all the way through to the 20<sup>th</sup> century, describing sightings, descriptions of the fox, local testimonies, old stories. It was far too much to write down, so Dean just watched him talk instead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was a funny thing watching someone who was off in their own little world. No matter how much Dean stared, Aaron never seemed to register it. The occasional beam of light from the windows would illuminate the boy like a spotlight as he motioned out the actions of characters with his hands. When Dean was very lucky it would catch his smile or the bright flash of his eyes. Aaron wasn’t what Dean would consider traditionally handsome. No, Dean was traditionally handsome, and Aaron didn’t look like him at all. Instead the boy was thin, sharp, and the absolute picture of innocence. Perhaps that’s why he felt so drawn to him? Honestly, Dean wasn’t sure what it was, but the more he watched Aaron the more he found that he liked the other boy’s company.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>----</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Whitby – 1994<br/>Sunday</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>His dad had come home late last night drunk. There had been another cattle mutilation out on one of the farms, so dad had left early that morning and he’d returned again in the small hours of the night while Dean stayed awake watching late night TV.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean loved his father more than anything, but even he couldn’t fight the nerves he had whenever dad came home after too much to drink. He knew that Sam hated it more than anything, and he’d gone slowly from fearing it to resenting and challenging their dad over it. Dean had once had to drag his brother out to spend the night on a bench in some strange park, because he’d worried for one irrational moment that their dad had been about to hit him. Of course, he’d felt horrendously guilty about it the next day, and dad had been furious with him because Sammy had caught a cold.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Last night dad had been pretty angry to, but Dean knew how to deal with it. The best thing to do was just to agree passionately with whatever he was saying and wait for him to tire himself out. And, if he was angry at him, then just to take it – he always apologised in some way the next day. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When dad went out again, Dean headed for the library.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron smiled and greeted him when he first arrived, but then his expression gave way to a startled frown. “What happened?” His hands hovered uncertainly around Dean’s face, then dropped down to his sides, expressive eyes wide with alarm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Right. There was a bruise on his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His dad hadn’t hit him exactly. Dean had misread a joke, and his dad had simply given him an offended shove. In his drunk state he hadn’t been able to control his own strength and had accidentally knocked Dean into the cabinet. He hadn’t apologised, but breakfast and a note giving him the day off were a symbolic gesture he understood.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I fell.” It wasn’t a lie, and he added in a laugh to defuse the situation. “Don’t worry it’s nothing, it’ll be gone in a few days.” Hopefully before Sammy or Bobby saw, they’d only make a fuss and jump to assumptions. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron didn’t press him any further, and while he did look concerned, there wasn’t any suspicion in it. “You said the other day you were here with your dad; do you have any other family with you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean shrugged, taking up a seat. He had the day off, so he didn’t have to do any research today. “My little brother’s staying with a family friend while we’re here.” Meeting the other boy’s eyes, Dean conveyed the rest. He didn’t have a mother, but he didn’t want to talk about it with a stranger. Aaron met his gaze, and Dean was surprised to find understanding there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s just me and my dad here to. My mum and older sister died in a car accident three years ago.” He matched Dean’s steady expression throughout this revelation. “It wasn’t here, they were the next state over visiting Boston.” Aaron drummed his fingers loosely on the table, finally breaking the eye contact as he glanced awkwardly away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean hesitated. He knew he had to say something… he never knew what to say in situations like this.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My mum was murdered.” The words spilled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “My dad he… he joined the FBI to find her killer.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And did he?” Aaron asked, still not quite able to make full eye contact with Dean, although he made an effort to do so.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean shook his head. “He’s still looking though, every free moment he has, and I help to.” He added the last part with a tone of defiance, as if Aaron had been about to imply he wasn’t working hard enough to support his father. Aaron didn’t say anything like that though, instead he just reached over and placed his hand lightly over Dean’s own.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A crackle, like static electricity, rushed through him. It was wonderful, exhilarating and reassuring all at once, and yet, Dean pulled his hand back with an awkward laugh. “Dude, I’m not a girl.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other boy frowned; head angled towards his shoulder in confusion. “I know that. I just thought you…” he shook his head, “never mind.” Before Dean had a chance to question this further, Aaron quickly changed the subject. “Hey, there’s an ice-cream place just round the corner from here, they always do a deal for under 16s on Sundays, you want to go?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After having spent four whole days in the library it felt a little weird to leave, but then again, he had been given the day off.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sure. Why not?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>----</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Whitby – 1994<br/>Monday</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s a Kitsune.” For the first time since they’d arrived, dad stayed to eat breakfast with him. The notes Dean had taken, as well as some of his own, scattered across the small circular motel table. “Potentially a family line that’s been here for generations,” he tapped his finger against some of the notes Dean had made regarding the time of the Founding Fathers. “The pituitary glands from the cattle’s brains are missing.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Taking a bite of his toast, Dean considered this carefully. “I thought Kitsune’s ate human pituitary glands?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“They do normally.” Dad looked like was getting ready to leave, “Some occasionally hunt other prey when they’re trying to avoid detection, but there are plenty of suspicious deaths in this town over the past seventeen years, usually at least one a month. Often travellers, but a few locals. Keep an eye out.” He grabbed the knife that had been sitting by the bed and dropped it into his bag, making a beeline towards the door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jumping quickly to his feet, Dean tried to look just as ready to go. “Anything I can help with?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Just keep out of trouble.” The door closed behind him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There were no instructions, no orders. Dean hated days like this, and usually he just spent them in the motel room waiting for his dad to return. That was one of the benefits of Whitby though. He at least had somewhere to go, and someone to spend the time with. Dad looked like he meant business, so they’d probably only be here another day or so. It felt wrong to just leave Aaron so suddenly… </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean had never specified when he and his dad were leaving, but Aaron had to have known he wouldn’t be here forever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heading to the library Dean was surprised to find that the other boy wasn’t here. Dean waited for two full hours, and then he walked up the road to the ice-cream parlour where they’d been the other day. He wasn’t there either.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>----</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Whitby – 1994<br/>Tuesday</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>A body had been found that morning. A young woman, known by locals to offer her services at night to anyone who paid the right price. Dad suspected she was another victim of the Kitsune and had left before breakfast to check the mortuary. Just like yesterday he left no instructions or orders.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean could feel an anxiety he tried to ignore building deep at the base of his chest. If dad didn’t catch the Kitsune tonight then he would definitely come home drunk and angry. People dying on his watch, that was always the hardest thing. The woman who had died last night had died because he’d failed to catch the Kitsune fast enough.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron hadn’t been at the library yesterday, and Dean still felt a small huff of betrayal at that, but as he had nowhere else to go that was where he went. This time however, Aaron was waiting for him, looking… Dean blinked. He hadn’t noticed before how weak Aaron had been before; it was only now that he realised the stark contrast.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other boy jumped out of his seat to greet him, moving with much more confident strides, a healthier glow to his warm cheeks. His dark hair, which had been hanging limply before, now seemed fuller and more energised. “Sorry I wasn’t here yesterday” he apologised, “I get sick sometimes and yesterday was really bad.” He motioned to himself, “all better now though.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That’s right. Aaron had mentioned before that the reason he didn’t go to school was because he suffered from poor health. Dean just hadn’t noticed how sick he looked before… although honestly he didn’t have many examples to compare against.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m… I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Looking at Aaron now there was something very disquieting stirring inside him. Every time Dean tried to look at the other boy he found himself focusing too hard on something, his smile, his eyes, his suddenly fresh dark hair, and honey-toned soft skin. He even found his eyes admiring the trim waist and strong neckline.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He forced himself to calm down. It wasn’t weird he reassured himself, it was just the shock at seeing the other boy so transformed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That, however, was when he knew he had to tell Aaron everything. Everything to keep him safe. The Kitsune was still out there, and there weren’t that many people in this town. Aaron could easily be the next victim, or his father, and he had no idea how much danger he was in.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I need to tell you something.” It had to be away from prying eyes and ears. He wrapped his fingers around Aaron’s slim wrist, and then upon discovering that caused his heart to flip painfully up his throat, he released it again. Instead he motioned for the other boy to follow him out of the library. Dean had noticed a quiet patch around the side in a little park area the other day, that should be a good place to talk.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron looked confused, but he still followed Dean obediently.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What is it?” He asked, laughing at first at Dean’s seemingly odd behaviour, and then stopping, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop them. They’d just reached the edge of the park, everywhere around them was quiet. “You look worried?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of course, he was fucking worried.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This is going to sound crazy, but I need you to listen. You and your dad might be in danger.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This did get Aaron’s attention. He closed his mouth very quickly, expression sharpening as he listened very closely. “What do you mean?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The cattle mutilations, that woman who died the other day… there’s a monster in this town. The people here call it the Whitby Fox, but it’s actually something called a Kitsune.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron laughed, but the hardness didn’t leave his eyes. “Dean… you can’t seriously believe…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean shook his head stubbornly. “I told you it would sound crazy, but you have to believe me. My dad isn’t actually FBI, he’s a Hunter. It’s his job to track down and kill these monsters. He’s looking right now, but I don’t know how long it’ll take him to find it. You need to make sure you aren’t out at night, and if anyone suspicious approaches you then just run.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other boy didn’t laugh again, instead he looked very still, brown eyes drilling deep into Dean’s green ones. Then he clicked his tongue angrily, shoving past the young Hunter and back towards the street.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Aaron wait!” The other boy probably thought he was insane now, maybe he even thought Dean was making fun of him. However, Aaron didn’t turn, and when Dean tried to follow he just ran.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dad didn’t hit him that night, but after the words he’d yelled and the blame he’d placed at Dean’s feet for not getting the information he needed soon enough, he wished he had just hit him instead.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>----</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Whitby – 1994<br/>Wednesday</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean didn’t get out of bed when dad left that morning. He heard the door open and close but remained firmly under the covers of his bed. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, and his eyes felt raw and dry. Dad had been right, if he’d just focused on the job he’d been given instead of having fun, then that woman might still be alive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Now dad was disappointed in him and Aaron thought he was mad and hated him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sooner dad killed the Kitsune the better, then they could just get out of this stupid town and go back to normal. He missed Sammy; it was always easier to feel strong when he had the role of older brother to fulfil. He never thought he’d miss babysitting duty so hard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean stayed in bed, drifting in and out of sleep all morning, and then he skulked about in the motel room for the first half of the afternoon, ignoring the pangs of hunger in his stomach until they just became too much to bare. Dad had left some money on the table, presumably so Dean could buy himself something to eat, so he took the it and left.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The walk to the centre of town took about fifteen minutes, and Dean had walked the route often enough now to know where he was going. There was a diner where he should be able to grab a meal. He thought of Aaron and wondered if he was sitting in the library at all. He’d probably been dreading the thought that Dean might turn up again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The central clock tower struck four in the afternoon, chiming out four loud clangs of the bell.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In order to get to the diner, he’d have to walk past the library. “Just keep walking”, Dean told himself. Aaron probably wouldn’t even be there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The worrying sound of other young adolescent voices did reach his ears as he neared the street leading up and past the library. They weren’t voices Dean recognised, although he imagined that the children who usually attended school during the day had probably been let out. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Dean did his best to look as cool and inconspicuous as possible, hoping they’d just let him pass without a second glance, he wasn’t in the mood to socialise right now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Give it back!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean’s ears sharpened that was Aaron’s voice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rounding the corner, Dean was finally able to see the scene unfolding by the bench in front of the library. Four other kids had Aaron’s satchel and were digging through it, tossing his notes and books out onto the ground, laughing as Aaron attempted to catch them before they blew off in the wind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dude, don’t be such a cry baby, we’re just trying to have fun.” Dean identified the ringleader as the smaller blonde boy amongst the group, he wasn’t doing anything himself, but judging by the way the other three were looking to him for approval, he had to be the main force behind this. “You do know what that is right?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Losing his temper, Aaron tried to lunge for the shorter boy, but the others closed in around him, sending Aaron sprawling back to the ground. A particularly large teenager stooped over him, pulling Aaron back to his feet by the front of his shirt in a mocking gesture, only just allowing the tips of his toes to touch the floor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Even if Aaron did hate him, he couldn’t just let this go on.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Moving fast and low, Dean drew level with the bullies, sizing up his opportunity. Take out the leader and you take out the pack, that was the rule he and Sam had been taught. Get the first punch in, before they have a chance to get you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean grabbed the back of the short blonde boy’s head and slammed him against the ground, using his own hand to prevent any actual head injuries.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The taller bullies turned, startled, and confused as their leader let out a cry of shock and pain. They hovered, dropping Aaron to the floor while they tried to figure out what to do. Dean gave them a cocky grin and nudged his chin over his shoulder. “Why don’t you leave my friend there alone and go and find someone else to pick on?” He kept his attention focused on the bullies, afraid of what he might see if he looked at Aaron.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The taller boy made an awkward attempt to swing a punch, Dean avoided it easily. Honestly, even Sammy was better at throwing a punch than these guys. Taking advantage of the momentum as the boy fell forward, carried by the weight of his own fist, Dean stuck out a foot, watching with satisfaction as the older teen hit the paved street.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fucking crazy!” The blonde boy snapped, staggering to his feet. “We’ve got better things to do anyway.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean waited until the boys were properly out of sight before he finally dragged his gaze back to the spot where Aaron had been, a part of him hoping that the other boy had just fled while Dean wasn’t looking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But Aaron was still there, watching Dean carefully. He still looked a little nervous, chewing the bottom of his lip in a way that absolutely did not make Dean’s heart beat any faster, that was the adrenaline from the fight.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Thanks.” Bending down Aaron began to collect his things, shoving them back into his satchel. “Those guys are jerks, I usually just let them tire themselves out.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The idea that those boys had been picking on Aaron before kicked off a new fury in Dean that he did his damn hardest to push back down. Afraid he’d say something rash; he simply bent down and began helping Aaron to collect his things.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After a few minutes, Aaron hesitantly spoke again. “I’m sorry for running off like that the other day… what you said… it just kind of struck a nerve.” He shook his head slowly, “You’re a good guy, I was just being overly sensitive…” His skin hadn’t yet lost that healthy glow, and yet something about the other boy just seemed a little bit smaller, a little bit weaker again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean shook his head quickly. “No, look the whole thing does sound crazy, and anyone would have reacted in the same way.” He laughed lightly, “Hell, some people might even have hit me.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His laugh trailed off at the sharp, almost reprimanding look Aaron gave him. “You shouldn’t joke about things like that. No one should hit anyone for something so stupid.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well if being an idiot is a reason not to get hit…” Dean was about to make another joke, and then thought better of it. “I just panicked after that woman died… I didn’t want anything to happen to you…” He caught himself, realising how that might sound. “I mean…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron however was looking at him with a trace of amusement and a smile that caused all the blood in Dean’s body to rush to his face. He looked away again quickly, focusing on collecting the remaining notes up as fast as he could, and handing them back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dean…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Looking up, Dean watched as Aaron worried his lower lip again. “Do you… there’s a book in the library archives that might help you and your dad to understand what’s going on. It’s restricted, but I know where it’s kept.” He shuffled the now full satchel onto his shoulder, “we’ll have to wait until the library closes though, is that okay?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A book? Dean nodded eagerly. Perhaps if he were able to deliver a big win to his dad and help stop the Kitsune then he’d forgive him. Aaron already seemed to have done so, and that was a promising start considering how shitty he’d been feeling this morning.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The library closed at five on weekdays, so it wouldn’t be too long to wait.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“This Kitsune…” Aaron settled himself on the nearby bench, “Tell me about it?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean didn’t know very much about this particular Kitsune, but he knew about the lore. “They’re a little like Werewolves, except they don’t transform during the full moon. The species is believed to have come from South-East Asia and they’re fairly uncommon in America, but occasionally one crops up. They feed on the pituitary gland in the human brain.” He tapped his head knowledgeably but noticed that his words only seemed to be worrying the other boy. “They’re pretty easy to kill though, no silver bullet or holy water, just a straightforward knife or steak to the heart.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron flinched.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And… they have to eat pituitary glands from human brains?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That was his takeaway? “Well… apparently they can eat them from other animal brains. That’s why there were all those cattle mutilations, but at the end of the day they’re monsters, they get off on killing people.” Trust a kind-hearted kid like Aaron to try and find a redeeming light for these creatures.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you know the patterns of when the Kitsune kills people?” The tone of Aaron’s question surprised him. He didn’t sound scared or curious, more like he was running a test by Dean, one he’d failed to study for.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dad probably did, but he hadn’t told Dean that much about it. “Well… my dad says that the killings go back centuries.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There weren’t any for fourteen years, then they started again seventeen years ago. One a month, every month. Some were travellers, others local, but every single one of them was sick with a terminal illness.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean snorted, “And that justifies it? Just because they’re dying a monster can come and snuff out whatever months they might have left?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron didn’t have a comeback to this, glancing down on at his feet. “Maybe they don’t have a choice.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He left this floating in the air. Dean didn’t see the point in arguing with him, hopefully Aaron would never meet a Kitsune, so he’d never have to wonder as its claws were burying into his chest whether it was right for him to die so that a supernatural monster might live.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then he started. “You said you were ill… you’re not…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The darker boy glanced back at him and smiled softly with a shake of his head. “No. I’m a little weak sometimes, but… my dad says with the right diet I’ll get stronger, and when I’m older I should be fine. It’ll be beef every day after that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You can’t eat beef?” Dean let out a pained groan. “Seriously it’s the best thing ever. Burgers, steak, there’s nothing you can’t do with cow.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron laughed. “Well in that case I look forward to trying it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They exchanged a smile, the earlier awkwardness melting away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For what was left of the hour, Dean spent the time telling Aaron about some of the cases he and his dad had faced, and a few little tales about Sammy growing up. Aaron even told a few about his dad, apparently he worked as a mechanic in town and had to deal with all sorts of entitled customers every day. Aaron knew about some pretty cool cars as a result, and he was even appropriately impressed when Dean told him about the Impala.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The clock struck five in no time at all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They allowed another hour to pass just for good measure, watching the librarian leave and lock the door behind her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How are we going to get in?” Dean asked once they’d seen her drive off in her battered looking Ford.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There’s a loose window” Aaron told him, already heading along the length of the building, “Never closes properly, and if you can just hook your nails under it then it opens.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well that all sounded pretty straight forward.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once they’d reached the window, Aaron hooked his fingers under the frame, fiddled around a little and then slowly pulled it open. “You go first, I’ll follow.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Heaving himself up, Dean fit smoothly through the open window, making space for Aaron to wriggle through after him. They were in what appeared to be one of the back rooms. But the smaller boy seemed to know where they were, and manoeuvred round Dean with confidence, taking hold of the door handle, leading them back into the main body of the library.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“How often do you do this?” Dean couldn’t help but ask as he followed Aaron out into the bigger room.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Every week or so. Library opening hours are so restrictive, and I find it kind of relaxing.” He directed Dean towards the front desk, clambering over it himself and emerging with a set of keys.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“So, what’s in this book exactly?” Dean asked, he’d almost forgotten what they were doing this all for.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“An old diary from a man who claims to have spent time with the Kitsune. It’s almost a hundred years old though, so we have to be really careful with it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>If it were true, something that personal would probably be really useful, and it might even reveal where the Kitsune were living, or perhaps a family name. “Then let’s get to it” he grinned, waiting patiently by the door as Aaron slid the key into the lock.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An alarm went off.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Clamping his hands to his ears, Dean cringed against the onslaught of noise. Aaron was looking shocked, his own hands pressing down against the side of his face. “They weren’t here last time!” He yelled above the noise. “Shit!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Glancing at Dean and the way they’d come, he bolted into the room. Dean could hear him cursing and fumbling around.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dude we have to go!” Dean shouted, “Town this small, the police could be here any second.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fifteen more tense seconds passed, and Aaron emerged again, the book clasped tightly in his hands. “Okay, let’s go.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They ran. The sound of the alarm, approaching sirens and the beating of his own heart were a deafening cacophony ringing in Dean’s head. They practically fell through the loose window and bolted across the park, praying they weren’t seen by the approaching cops. They didn’t stop running until they’d reached the other side, dropping down behind the bushes with a sigh of relief.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron looked at him with a wide smile, the book clutched tightly against his rapidly rising and falling chest. Dean felt himself grin back. And then, fuelled on by the excitement and thrill of their daring escape he acted on impulse, pressing his lips against Aaron’s.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He pulled back, the reality of the moment hitting him. He hadn’t meant to… he hadn’t…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And then Aaron was kissing him back, and Dean found himself unable to pull away again, his young teenage hormones running wild in his body as one of his hands found Aaron’s hair, while the other gripped at the front of his shirt, faintly brushing the binding of the old book.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The sound of cars passing on the road beyond the bush hummed softly in the background, but all Dean could really focus on was the warmth of the lips against his own. He’d kissed girls before and they were soft and gentle, but there was something different, and yet no less thrilling about kissing Aaron.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Enthralled in the sensation, Dean didn’t hear one car stop nearby, he didn’t hear footsteps approaching, and he wasn’t aware of the other presence. Not until the blinding light of a torch weighed down on him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean had a second to process the look of shock and fury on his father’s face before fingers hooked into his shirt collar, yanking him out of the bushes and away from Aaron. Dean knew he was in trouble, his dad wasn’t drunk, but that burning silence told Dean everything he needed to know as his father hauled him back towards the car.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The book.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aaron sprinted after them, pressing the diary into Dean’s fingers. This gesture at last caused his dad to stop, turning to direct the sharpest and most disgusted look he could muster in Aaron’s direction. He seized the book from Dean’s fingers and threw it into the nearby foliage.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No! Dad, it can help! It can help us find the Kitsune!” He fought against the older man’s grip.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A heavy hand cuffed him across the face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean saw Aaron’s fury, saw the other boy take a threatening step towards them, towards his dad. But Dean fervently shook his head. The other boy’s eyes flashed, turning a brilliant supernatural shade of amber.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’re done here. The Kitsune’s dead.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean watched as Aaron froze, the dull colour returning to his eyes. His dad hadn’t noticed, but Dean had… he’d seen it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With a final yank, his dad threw him into the backseat of the car, slamming the door behind him. Dean flinched at the sound, flinching again when his father slammed the driver’s seat door after himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They left Whitby in silence.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>----</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Whitby – 1994<br/>Thursday</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“What do you expect me to think John!?” Bobby shouted in the next room. “The boy comes back looking like he’s just gone three rounds with Mike Tyson and won’t speak a word! What the hell happened!?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dean stayed where he was curled up on the bed he usually stayed in when they visited Bobby’s. His left arm was in a sling, and everything hurt whenever he tried to move. He tried to tune out the shouting, but that only brought his dad’s voice back to the forefront: the things his dad had yelled at him on the car journey back, and the awful things he’d shouted when they were in a motel the previous night.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At the time… although it had been new, it hadn’t exactly felt wrong. But now… now Dean felt sick and disgusted with himself. And, most importantly his father couldn’t even look at him. Why hadn’t anyone told him how wrong it was? If he’d have known then he never would have… That flash of amber he’d seen in Aaron’s eyes… he should tell his dad, he needed to tell him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the idea of Aaron on the ground with some great Hunter standing over him, knife raised… it made him feel even worse.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Dean?” He felt the weight of another body on the bed beside him. Looking up, he saw the concerned face of his brother, forehead wrinkled slightly as he frowned at his brother’s injuries. “Did dad do this to you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What did dad say?” Dean dropped his gaze to the ground again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The words his dad had said came echoing back. <strong>“How do I know I can trust you with Sammy? Do you know how much you could hurt him!”</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>It had never even entered Dean’s mind that him liking Aaron could one day develop into something… awful. Something he could use to hurt Sammy or others.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He said the Kitsune attacked you.” Sammy didn’t sound like he believed it at all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Then that’s what happened.” Dean didn’t want to turn this whole thing into an argument, he didn’t want to risk Sammy and Bobby finding out. His dad had told him he could fight it, and with great relief had reassured him that as he still liked girls he wasn’t too far gone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He could get better. That was all he needed to focus on.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>----</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Whitby – Present Day</strong>
</p><p>Dean snapped back away from Cas’ hands; eyes wide as he resurfaced. The memories had felt so real, playing out like a surreal dream around him. His previously hazy, drunk brain was beginning to sober, and his stomach churned uncomfortably, although he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or what he’d just seen that had caused it.</p><p>“Dean are you okay?” Cas placed a hand on his shoulder, and before Dean could stop himself he flinched away.</p><p>The look of hurt and confusion that the angel quickly tried to hide made Dean feel even worse. He just didn’t know what to think, or how to even begin to process what he’d just seen. It felt like it couldn’t be real, but at the same time Dean knew with absolute clarity that it was.</p><p>“I’m… shit!” He wanted to kick something as hard as he could just to vent the conflicting array of emotions swirling about in his head. “Fuck Cas… what you must think of me…” The pressing concern that he found at the top of his mind was the terror at how Cas would react. Dean knew that Cas had always claimed to be indifferent to sexuality, and he himself knew it was nothing to hold against a person, and yet the words of his father, newly resurfaced, scorched his brain. It was fine for everyone else; it was just wrong for him.</p><p>The angel frowned and shook his head. “Considering the nature of your memories, I thought it best that I didn’t observe” Castiel assured him, “But, if you want to talk, then I will listen.”</p><p>No… he didn’t have time for this. The Kitsune, the reason that man had died, it was his fault, he’d let Aaron get away all those years ago.</p><p>“I need to… Cas I know who the Kitsune is.” He tried to get to his feet, and stumbled, evidently he was still more drunk than he felt.</p><p>In a flurry of beige material Cas got to his own feet to hold out a steadying arm. “It can wait until tomorrow; I’ll get you back to the motel.” Dean let out a choking sound caught halfway between a laugh and a sob. He hated to admit that Castiel was right, he wouldn’t be any good to anyone right now.</p><p>Looking at the angel, his friend… he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He recognised this feeling now, and he knew what it really meant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He woke up with a headache in the thin hideously designed sheets of the motel room. Sam’s bed was empty, but the armchair in front of the television was very much occupied. Castiel was watching early morning cartoons with the volume on mute, head tilted curiously to the side as he watched Tom and Jerry chasing each other around a pool table.</p><p>“Cas?” Trying to pull his thoughts together, the memories of the previous night came crashing down on him. Letting out a long groan, Dean fell back against the pillow. Aaron, his dad, the Kitsune, Cas… Maybe it would be better if he just slept the whole day away.</p><p>Two fingers pressed against the side of his temple, and instantaneously the hangover was gone.</p><p>“Jesus Cas…” Dean sat up, startled out of his stupor for a few moments, “I forgot you could do that… Why don’t you do it more often?”</p><p>A small twitch resembling a smile appeared in the corner of the angel’s mouth. “Because usually I think you deserve it.”</p><p>There was that feeling again. Dean wondered what it would be like to kiss Cas. When he’d kissed Aaron they’d both just been boys, but Cas… or at least his vessel was a man.</p><p>The door opened, and Sam returned with breakfast. “Oh good, you’re up.” He passed Dean his coffee and a bottle of water, “Cas said you remembered something important last night?”</p><p>Yes.</p><p>Taking a quick sip of his coffee, Dean got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “I know who the Kitsune is, give me five minutes.” No matter what his feelings for Aaron in the past might have been, if he was a murderer then he had to be dealt with.</p><p>True to his word, Dean dressed and dug out a silver knife from the back of the Impala. “It’s Aaron Sammy, he’s the Kitsune.” He dropped down into the driver’s seat and waited for Sam and Cas to join him.</p><p>Castiel must have gestured a look of confusion because Sam started explaining the events of the last couple of days to him as they drove down the main street towards the town library. It was possible Aaron had decided to try and make a break for it, after all, he knew Dean was a Hunter.</p><p>“If you knew he was a Kitsune, why didn’t you tell dad?” Reaching the end of his explanation, Sam asked the one question Dean had been hoping he wouldn’t ask.</p><p>Dean’s reply was to put his foot down on the accelerator, praying that they weren’t too late.</p><p>The library was open but abandoned when they arrived. There were no customers, and no one behind the front counter. Someone must have opened the place up though, because the computers were all turned on and displaying their welcome screens, it also looked like someone had started putting the recently returned books away.</p><p>The sound of something hitting the ground drew their attention to the door behind the front counter. The door Dean knew led to the library’s archives. Someone was back there, and it sounded like they were in trouble.</p><p>Drawing out the knife, Dean nodded to both Sam and Cas as a sign to move forward.</p><p>Softly, careful with every step that brushed the cheap rough carpet, Dean edged closer to the closed door. There were voices coming from the other side, two men.</p><p>“I want you to leave.” That was Aaron, his voice pitched with cold anger. “There are Hunters here, and thanks to you they probably think we’re both killers!”</p><p>Another voice, a snigger. “Then we kill them! Jesus Christ Aaron, you’re a fucking Kitsune, where’s your backbone. I arrive in this little provincial town, find one of my own, only to discover their eating cow brains!” The second man let out a growl of disgust.</p><p>Relief washed through Dean like a cascading waterfall. Aaron hadn’t killed anyone, that had been the second Kitsune. Perhaps… maybe there was a way he could live after all, maybe Dean had been right to let him go all those years ago.</p><p>Sam sent him the sign that he was about to kick the door in.</p><p>“Honestly, I don’t know how you can stand them” the other Kitsune snarled, “Hunters killed your whole family, and you just want to let these ones go!?”</p><p>Sam’s foot struck the door heavily, just below the door handle. It snapped open, drawing two sets of bright amber eyes towards them. Dean threw himself through the door first, knife raised as he directed it towards the second man in the room, the one he didn’t recognise. This man was tall, with a curly mass of auburn hair, like Aaron his face was pointed, teeth drawn back to reveal the sort of fangs you never saw in a human being.</p><p>“Oh look. Here’s one of them now.” The Kitsune lunged towards him, reactions fast as he slammed Dean’s hand against the open doorframe, forcing him to drop the knife, drooling teeth snapping at his head.</p><p>A strong weight threw the other Kitsune back, and Aaron stood between them, claws drawn as he faced the other Kitsune. “I’m warning you to leave Elijah! This is my family’s town!”</p><p>Elijah brushed an unconcerned hand through his thick hair, eyeing up Sam and Cas who were hovering just over Dean’s shoulder. “You really aren’t a match for me. Pituitary glands from cows will keep you alive, but you’re weak.” He lunged towards Aaron, his own claws drawn as he threw the other man to the ground, setting upon him like a rabid dog.</p><p>“Get off him!” Picking up the knife again, Dean charged towards the fighting Kitsunes, Sam and Cas hot on his trail. There were four of them, they could easily take the thing.</p><p>Elijah flung Aaron upward as a shield between them, teeth digging into his throat, a wicked glint in his eyes as the blood began to seep down Aaron’s neck. But Aaron wasn’t done fighting yet, he managed to loosen the grip Elijah had on his hands, digging his claws deep into the other Kitsune’s eyes. It threw Elijah enough for Dean to get a good enough aim. He slammed the knife down, catching Elijah’s shoulder as the Kitsune rolled out of the way, pulling Dean with him.</p><p>With a clear shot Cas reacted, moving with inhuman speed after them, hand grasping the back of Elijah’s head. Light burned from every orifice of the Kitsune’s body, before he fell limp, eyes burned clean out of their sockets.</p><p>It wasn’t conventional, but the job was done.</p><p>Getting hesitantly to his feet, Dean offered Cas a well-deserved smile of gratitude. Allowing the angel a few moments to fuss over him before he brushed him away. The knife was still in his hands, and Aaron was eying it with concern.</p><p>“Tell me what happened twenty years ago.” Dean just had to confirm one thing, “Those people who died, was that you and your dad?”</p><p>Aaron didn’t hide his eyes, fixing Dean with that golden eyed stare that he now remembered with such clarity. “Yes. But he had a reason. Young Kitsune… we die if we aren’t able to eat properly. My parents figured they could do the same thing my dad’s parents had done before. They looked for people who were already dying and used them to keep me and my sister alive. Once we were strong enough we’d eat the same way they did. That was the plan.” He stood where he was, allowing the claws and teeth to fade. It was an open invitation. “I’ll never have children and the rest of my family is dead. The Whitby Fox line ends with me. I have never killed a human, and I never will.”</p><p>He was waiting, waiting for Dean to pass judgement. Dean saw it, and he knew that Cas and Sam did as well. They were watching, waiting for him to make a decision.</p><p>Dean tightened his hold around the hilt of the knife in his hand. There had been a time when he would have killed any monster, no matter how innocent it pretended to be. But so much time had passed, Benny, Garth… he knew things weren’t the basic shades of black and white he’d once believed them to be.</p><p>“I’m not going to kill you.” He lowered the knife, passing it to Sam, afraid that he might change his mind.</p><p>He didn’t want to look at his brother or Aaron, but he felt a reassuring warmth from Cas’ blue gaze, so he focused on that, testing out the joints in his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t seriously injured it when Elijah had thrown him.</p><p>“Do you need any help?” Cas’ hand was hovering, ready to heal if necessary, but Dean shook his head.</p><p>“I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Glancing back at the Kitsune he’d allowed to live, Dean felt Aaron’s understanding. He knew… perhaps everyone had known all this time how he felt about Cas, and Dean had been the only one too stupid to see it.</p><p>----</p><p>It was Sam and Dean’s job to dispose of the body, drive it out a few miles and dig a grave to burn the remains in, standard procedure when there were no open graves to be found.</p><p>Cas waited and watched from the doors of the library. He was talking with Aaron, and whatever the Kitsune was saying seemed to be having some sort of effect. The angel had flushed a faint pink, and the colour only intensified when he met Dean’s inquiring look.</p><p>With the body stored away in the trunk, Dean slammed the lid shut.</p><p>“If you need to go and talk to him just go.” Sam was shooting him an exasperated look, and Dean realised he must have been looking over at Aaron throughout the whole loading process. “We should get going soon though. I don’t want to have to explain to anyone why we have a body in the back of our car.”</p><p>Nodding somewhat stiffly, Dean headed over to the front of the library. Cas caught his eye again and mumbled something about going to help Sam, leaving the two of them alone to talk.</p><p>“So, sounds like you remembered.” Leaning casually against the front of the building, Aaron eyed Dean with a careful glance.</p><p>“Yeah.” Coughing awkwardly, Dean tried to convey the same casual air Aaron was giving off. “I’m… well, sorry for not remembering. It wasn’t that you… I mean… you were great and…” He dragged a palm down his face, humiliated by his own embarrassment.</p><p>But Aaron was chuckling and shaking his head. “It’s fine. Dean Winchester there have been many more since you.” He tilted his head to one side, “although I get the impression with you that there’s only been one?”</p><p>The colour in Dean’s face intensified, but he knew it was pointless to deny it. The whole thing was still so new to him, and he wasn’t even sure he’d had the time to process all this properly. After all, at least since Aaron, Cas was the only guy Dean had ever felt this intensely about before. Looking back, he could now see that perhaps his admiration for Dr. Sexy and a couple of other guys wasn’t strictly heterosexual appreciation, and the Siren didn’t really count. But this was still a lot to work over.</p><p>Aaron nodded his head slowly. “Just promise me you won’t overthink it to much.” He reached forward to give Dean a friendly pat on the shoulder, “Don’t be a stranger if you visit town again.” With a playful wink he motioned the Hunter off back to the Impala, his brother, and his angel.</p><p>Neither Sam or Cas asked him about the details of his recovered memories, or what his relationship with Aaron had been. Instead they argued about what music to play. Dean won, because Cas sided with him, so they ended up listening to Led Zeppelin’s greatest hits.</p><p>Stopping for takeout at six in the evening, Dean and Cas waited by the car. They were changing drivers for the night, and while Cas could easily just teleport his way back to the Bunker, he’d decided to take the long road with them.</p><p>The night sky spread out before them, wide and vast, a beautiful view from the bonnet of the Impala.</p><p>“I saw you and Aaron talking before we left?” Curious, Dean turned his eyes from the stars to Cas, who was propped up beside him on the edge of the car.</p><p>He felt a degree of satisfaction when Castiel’s cheeks coloured again. “Yes. He… he had some interesting observations he thought I needed to be made aware of.” Clearing his throat in the least conspicuous way possible, Cas gazed sightlessly off in the other direction.</p><p>“Interesting observations?” Dean repeated with a small smile. Aaron had said not to overthink it, and this was him, not overthinking it. “Care to share with the class?”</p><p>The angel was flustered, and Dean couldn’t help but truly appreciate for the first time what this soft and warm feeling in his chest really meant. His dad had been wrong, this feeling, there wasn’t anything sick or perverted about it. After all, if an angel of the lord was indifferent to sexual orientation then shouldn’t everyone. Honestly, Dean felt certain he should have been panicking more about this revelation he’d just discovered about himself. But after everything he’d seen and been through over the years, having feelings for Cas was hardly the most dramatic or terrifying hurdle he’d ever come across.</p><p>He’d had a lot of time to think in the car, re-evaluate the things they’d been through, and once he realised he’d been in love with Cas practically since he’d returned from Purgatory, the rest just fell neatly into place. This feeling was new, and yet it wasn’t at the same time.</p><p>If there was any doubt in his mind that Cas didn’t feel the same way, perhaps he would have been more nervous. But Dean had seen those shifty looks from enough girls who were into him to know what they meant. It was all in his hands now.</p><p>“It wasn’t anything serious… I think he was joking.” Cas’ voice was a little gruffer than usual, his eyes wandering in the direction of the fast-food joint where Sam was purchasing dinner.</p><p>“He said some stuff to me too.” Dean felt Cas’ eyes snap towards him in alarm, but Dean remained calm, pausing before allowing himself to turn and face the angel. “I’m not sure I can explain it all now, but you said back in the bar you were okay with me talking about that memory I recovered?”</p><p>Cas nodded slowly, expression cautious and pensive, unsure whether to wait and see where this went or flee while he still had the chance.</p><p>Leaning forward slowly, so as to give Cas time to withdraw, Dean began to close the space between them him, bringing up a hand to card into the angel’s hair, enticing him closer. Castiel could have easily resisted, but he allowed Dean’s hand to guide him, blue eyes watching Dean’s green ones apprehensively.</p><p>The angel looked terrified that he’d misunderstood or misread the situation, so Dean thought it best to reassure him in the only way it could be done. He drew Cas into a chaste and patient kiss. He felt a moment of hesitation, and then Cas’ lips were pressing back against his own.</p><p>There would be problems they’d have to address later, things that needed to be discussed. But for now, Dean just enjoyed the moment.</p>
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